


how to punish impudence

by lillupon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bottom Merlin, Cock Slut Merlin, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Public Sex, Top Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 08:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillupon/pseuds/lillupon
Summary: a kinksofcamelot fill for the prompt: "arthur is in a council meeting when agravaine brings up one of merlin's misdemeanours to try and humiliate merlin (and thus arthur) in front of everyone. merlin protests impudently, so arthur is left with no choice but to punish him to "save face". he doesn't want to see merlin flogged or send him to the stocks, so he decides to fuck merlin then and there."





	how to punish impudence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arthur_pendragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthur_pendragon/gifts).



Merlin stands naked before the room, chin tucked to his chest and sloped shoulders curled forward. He’s coloured a violent shade of red from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest. His legs are pressed together and he cups his crotch, protecting the last of his modesty. Arthur can count every rib of his skinny torso. He never thought pointy elbows and knobby knees would do it for him, but he looks at Merlin and—gods, he aches with how much he wants it. His cock stirs in his trousers. 

“Bring me oil,” he says. 

“Sire,” Agravaine starts, “this is meant to be a punishment. Surely there is no need to ease passage.”

“It is for my own comfort, not Merlin’s. Are you denying me that?” 

“No, of course not, my lord,” Agravaine concedes. 

A servant hands him a vial of oil. Arthur uncorks it, slicking his hand up. He unlaces the front just enough to slide his hand inside and grip himself. He strokes himself to hardness, keeping his eyes fixed on Merlin instead of the rest of his court. Distantly, he wonders what Gwaine thinks of him now. The knight has always tried to goad him into sharing stories of his conquests and called him a prude when Arthur refused to divulge such details. Now all would witness one of his most intimate moments.

Once he has deemed himself sufficiently slicked, he beckons Merlin forward. “Come here.”

Merlin shuffles forward, gaze downcast. “I’m sorry, Arthur,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“No, I don’t imagine you did,” he murmurs. His stomach twinges with guilt. For Merlin, this truly is a punishment, intended to humiliate. Perhaps Arthur had not done him a favour by sparing him the temporary embarrassment of being in the stocks or the pain of being flogged. Maybe Merlin even preferred those things to the shame of being taken by another man, and in front of an audience, no less. No, this was no favour at all; Arthur had chosen this punishment because he wanted Merlin, and this was the only way he could see his desire realised. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he says quietly. Despite his guilt, his prick remains traitorously hard. “Sit.”

Merlin scrambles onto his lap, elbows and knees banging about as he situates himself. He grips the back of the throne with one hand. With his free hand, he reaches beneath himself to grasp Arthur’s cock. Both their breaths hitch at the first press of Arthur’s cock to his hole. Slowly, he begins to lower himself down. 

Arthur’s hands fly to the armrests, knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. He doesn’t know how he’s going to fit. Merlin is as tight as a virgin, not at all prepared to take his cock. Arthur yearns to comfort, to rub his hands up and down Merlin’s heaving flanks and say, “Easy there, love, easy.”

Merlin makes a pained noise as the tip of Arthur’s cock pops inside him. Arthur fights back a groan when Merlin clenches around him, nearly cutting off the circulation in his prick.

“Oh god.” Merlin shudders, lashes fluttering. 

It takes ages for Merlin to be fully seated on his cock and Arthur thinks he might die, it feels so good. He’s sweating under his tunic, droplets running down his back and his underarms damp. Merlin is gloriously tight and hot around him, his insides pulsing around Arthur’s length. It’s only by sheer force of will he doesn’t spend within seconds and make a fool of himself in front of his men.

Merlin is making hurt little whimpers on his lap. His eyes are squeezed shut and he looks pained, brows furrowed and plump lips pursed in a slight grimace. 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur whispers. Their first time shouldn’t have been like this, though an unhelpful part of his brain reminds him there would be no first time for them otherwise. He has always been playfully rough with Merlin, but doesn’t want it to hurt. He never wants Merlin hurt.

“No, Arthur. Don’t be. I just… I just—” Merlin struggles, trying to comfort him as though Arthur is the one who needs it. 

Merlin rocks his hips, tentative. Pushes himself up a few inches and then sinks back down on Arthur’s cock. He must be getting used to the stretch; Arthur can feel that tense ring of muscle relaxing around him. 

Merlin sets a steady pace of fucking himself on Arthur’s cock, moaning soft and sweet as he does so. He keeps his eyes screwed shut the entire time, perhaps hoping to forget their audience, or pretending Arthur is someone else. Arthur hopes it’s not the latter. 

Merlin’s got his lower lip rolled between his teeth, turning the rosy colour of it a seductive red. He stifles a whimper, trying to keep his pain quiet. His teeth sink into his lip, breaking skin and drawing blood. 

Arthur reaches out to cup Merlin’s jaw. “Merlin,” he says, brushing his thumb over Merlin’s bitten lower lip. “Stop that. You’re hurting yourself.”

Merlin shakes his head. Turns to nuzzle Arthur’s palm and press a kiss there. “No, doesn’t hurt,” he gasps. He takes Arthur’s cock down to the hilt and circles his hips in a filthy grind that has Arthur biting out curses. 

“Are you sure?” Arthur frets, careful to keep his voice low. He is familiar with this kind of punishment; knows masters often bend their servants over and pound into them like beasts to make it pleasurable for themselves and painful for their servants. But he could never do that to Merlin, even if it makes him less of a man in his people’s eyes. It’s the reason why he decided to have Merlin ride him instead; it would let Merlin control the pace.

“Mmm,” Merlin sighs. “Sure.”

Arthur glances between their bodies and finds Merlin’s cock ruddy and leaking copious amounts of precome. He swallows thickly at the implications of it. It’s almost… Almost as if Merlin is _enjoying_ this, if the noises he’s making are anything to judge by. The expression on Merlin’s face is not one of pain, but of _pleasure_. With this realisation, his brain utterly ceases to work for what could either be seconds or minutes. 

“You like this,” Arthur breathes, and as though his realisation is permission, Merlin begins to move with purpose, thighs flexing as he pushes himself up.

This is _Merlin_ , who never bathes with the rest of the knights in the stream and covers himself up with his arms when someone so much as tries to take a peek at him. Merlin, who blushes hotly when Gwaine makes a lewd pass at a girl. The same Merlin, who is now riding Arthur like his life depends on it. He swivels his hips as any seasoned harlot who hungers for coin.

Arthur groans. His head falls back against the backrest with a thunk. He keeps his eyes open a sliver, unwilling to deprive himself of the sight of Merlin taking his pleasure, the colour high in his cheeks and splashed across his chest.

“Sire, oh, oh, _ohhh_ ,” Merlin moans, louder now, mindless to those who share the room with them. “Unh, so good. You feel so good.” 

Merlin bounces up and down desperately on his cock, moaning like a whore as he does so. His cock bobs and sways in time to the motions, the head of it glistening with precome. It’s mesmerising, is what it is. Arthur pries his fingers off the armrest and grips Merlin’s slim hips. The next time Merlin drops down, Arthur thrusts his hips up to meet the movement.

“Arthur!” Merlin shouts, nevermind he is Arthur’s manservant and should be addressing his king appropriately. 

Arthur smooths one hand up Merlin’s front. Takes a peaked little nipple between his forefinger and thumb and _twists_ , reprimanding. Merlin cries out. The rhythm of his hips stutter and his cock blurts out a fresh glob of precome. 

“You forget yourself,” Arthur says lowly. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the abused bud, gentle and apologetic. 

Merlin whines. “M-my lord.” Shameless tart that he is, he pushes his chest into Arthur’s touch in a plea for more. 

Arthur is powerless to resist. He pulls and plucks at Merlin’s nipples until they turn red and puffy from his attention. He hadn’t known a man’s chest could be so sensitive, but Merlin clenches around him so tightly when Arthur digs a fingernail into the taut bud.

Merlin’s movements grow sloppy as he reaches his peak. Arthur can feel his own orgasm rising; pleasure coils in his gut and his balls draw in. If this were any kind of punishment, Merlin wouldn’t be allowed to come, but it’s obvious now this is the furthest thing from punishment that exists.

“My lord, I-I’m going to—” 

Merlin lets go of the backrest and throws his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, clinging. With a long, drawn-out moan, he begins to come, hips jerking as his cock spurts between them. Arthur groans as Merlin’s inner walls clamp around him, milking his own orgasm out of him. 

He spends inside Merlin’s body, vaguely aware that Gwaine, the bloody idiot that he is, is cheering them on. Why he deemed that man worthy of being one of his knights, he will never know. Probably because Merlin held Gwaine in high esteem, and thus by extension, Arthur felt compelled to honour him. 

With a sigh, Merlin sags into him. For a moment, Arthur allows himself to breathe, taking in Merlin’s scent and the musky tang of their shared sex.

His eyes slide to Agravaine, who stands there with poorly concealed anger and disgust in the lines of his face. It makes him smile. He’s no fool. He knows what his uncle was trying to achieve when he reminded Arthur that, in his father’s time, sex was used to punish insolent slaves. Agravaine knows of the bond he and Merlin share, and had hoped to humiliate them both and drive a wedge between them, and Arthur had been desperate enough to take the chance that was presented to him. And well, it all worked out for him, didn’t it? Merlin was right when he said there was a guardian angel watching over him (though Merlin had also said he couldn’t understand why Arthur of all people deserved such a thing).

Merlin hides his face in Arthur’s neck, as though he wants to disappear, only the pink tips of his ears visible. The embarrassment must be sinking in now that he has reached completion. With a fond huff, Arthur nuzzles at Merlin’s hair.

“Merlin,” he says quietly. “Are you alright?” 

“No,” Merlin moans and burrows further into him. “How am I supposed to show my face now? I—oh gods, Arthur. I just… Couldn’t help myself.” Even now, Merlin is rocking his hips in shallow motions, trying to ride the softening cock inside him. 

Arthur pinches Merlin’s hip. “We will talk about this later.” _And hopefully fuck late into the night and start again in the morning_ , he adds to himself. He turns to Agravaine, one corner of his lips pulled up in a smirk. “Are you satisfied now, Uncle?”

“Yes, your highness,” Agravaine says stiffly.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m in the honeymoon phase of my Merthur shipping where I want them to fuck a lot. Send me your smutty prompts and headcanons on [tumblr](http://lillupon.tumblr.com), and I’ll write them if I’m inspired :D


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